Wayne's Legacy
by dupidnavagog
Summary: Rated R for language, and sexual reference and suicide. Terry has protected Gotham City for six years now. Bruce's health is deteriorating, and he'll need help saving the world. Who will he count on? COMPLETED
1. Melanie

Nope, I don't own Batman Beyond, or any DC characters. I'm not even a stockholder. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Melanie stood outside the diner, wrapping her coat tightly against the night's chill. As she walked home, she sank deep into a lonely, hopeless feeling. Despair had pursued her for the last few months. Now it followed her everywhere.  
  
It was five years since her last mission as Ten, but felt like a lifetime ago. She cut all ties with that world - except for Jack, who joined her on the straight and narrow. Right now, she longed to call her mother, if only she knew the number.  
  
The hamburger Melanie just devoured left her with just a handful of creds - not nearly enough to keep her well-fed until next payday. Then there were the meds she couldn't quite afford. Would I take the fall today? - Melanie wondered grimly. She had held out from temptation this long, but maybe it would be a losing battle. Just one job, and she wouldn't have to worry until next month. But how much of her soul would it cost her?  
  
These five years have made me soft, Melanie thought harshly, staring down at the pavement. It was cracked and strewn with withered leaves. People were moving in and out of the shadows, some with small plastic bags, others with stacks of cred, all desperate and feeding off each other. When I was Ten, I never cared who stood in the way of what I wanted. We wanted - and had - so much. We never worried about food, shelter, or medicine, Melanie thought, and poor Jack. This is what it came down to - Jack, her brother, and possibly her only friend in this world. Fighting back the lump swelling in her throat, Melanie numbly took off her coat. This is what Jack needs, and all the rest is bullshit. Warm tears burned her cheeks as she loosed her blonde hair, unbuttoned her blouse and hiked her skirt up a little. She wiped away the tears, exhaled deeply, and straightened up. She'll do it just this once, for my brother.  
  
Only ten minutes passed, but it felt like an eternity. Finally a car stopped. A nervous-looking, middle-aged man rolled down the window and leaned over the seat towards Melanie. She steeled herself before bending down and squeezing her breasts together between her arms, making sure he saw her improved cleavage. "Hi there, lover," she said softly. "You like what you see?" The man gulped audibly.  
  
"Um, how much for a half-and-half?" he asked, still nervous. Melanie froze - what the hell's a half-and-half? She obviously couldn't ask, so she just made it for the cost of Jack's medicine.  
  
"Two hundred creds, but I'm worth every penny," she purred. "I'll do anything you want." The man smiled slowly, suddenly thinking of his toybox in the backseat. He opened the door. Melanie wanted to puke.  
  
"Come in then," he said. She welcomed the relative warmth of his car, and was about to get in when a large shadow passed overhead.  
  
"Go home to your wife, dreg," Batman's voice was behind Melanie. The man obediently sped away, barely closing the door before stepping on the gas. "As for you," he turned toward Melanie, "you've got some explaining." She didn't think it could get any worse. She could ask Batman not to take her to the police, but that never worked in the past. Suddenly, Batman grabbed her around the waist and flew them to an isolated rooftop.  
  
He stood directly in front of her. "So what happened down there?" he asked quietly. Maybe it was the tone of his voice that touched her, but she couldn't stop the tears from pouring down her face.  
  
"Why do you care?" she answered bravely. "Would it matter what I said, you'll have me arrested anyway."  
  
"I've been watching you since you've gotten out, Melanie," he started, "and you've been a model citizen so far. So I don't understand - what happened down there?" Melanie sank down, sitting on the gravel rooftop and wrapping her arms tightly around her knees. She looked very small.  
  
"There's just no good jobs when you've got a record," she began. Her eyes never left the ground. "The restaurant job was all I had. It didn't pay much, but it was enough. I got Jack a job there, and things were pretty good for a while. I even thought about night school."  
  
"Then Jack got sick. It was just a cough, we thought, but he kept getting worse. That's when he lost his job - couldn't have people coughing all over the food. We finally went to the clinic," she paused, and Batman spoke.  
  
"Tuberculosis?" Melanie nodded. It shouldn't exist in the twenty-first century. For the most part, it doesn't, that is, except for the poor.  
  
"Since when did you become a social worker?" she asked, eyes hard. Terry felt stung.  
  
"Melanie, despite what you think, I care what happens to you. I want things to work out." His gentle tone made her feel better, like she wasn't so alone anymore. "So he needs antibiotics," he continued, getting back on topic.  
  
"Yeah, lots of them. And without health insurance it's too expensive. I thought, if only I could get enough money to buy a month's worth - maybe Jack would be well enough to get another job. And that's when you found me," she ended, glancing up at the Bat. Terry's mind raced, trying to find a way to help without blowing his cover. He's Batman, not St. Vincent de Paul. Finally he straightened and spoke.  
  
"Just hang in for one more night. Things will turn around very soon." He turned and opened his wings before adding, "By the way - your friend down there? He gets off on choking his girlfriends. Been on his tail this week, and I'm getting him tonight. He's not the only creep out here, so go home." With that, he left.  
  
Melanie collected her coat on the way home. She made her way up the cracked stoop, past a woman who staked out the warm corner adjacent the door for the night. That'll be me soon, Melanie thought grimly, who ever guessed this would be my future. Up the narrow stairwell and down a poorly lit hall was Melanie and Jack's "home". This was one of many weekly rental motels in Old Gotham, whose usual customers were homeless people who somehow scraped together enough money to afford a smelly mattress and four walls for seven days. After Jack lost his job, they couldn't afford their old apartment. They were evicted, and spent the returned deposit on food and medicine. Without a security deposit, the Roseland Motel was the best they could do.  
  
Jack was asleep when she entered their room. She took the napkin out of her pocket and unwrapped a handful of cold french fries as she knelt by the bed. Jack rolled over to face her.  
  
"You were out pretty long, Mel," he yawned. "I was starting to worry."  
  
"I just saw someone I knew, and I guess we lost track of time," she said softly, "here, eat." She watched her brother pick at the shriveled fries in silence for a while, wondering what the next day would bring. 


	2. Batgirl

"Terry, no. You're crazy to even think that's a good idea." Max was typing furiously, hitting the Return key especially hard.  
  
"I know, I know, but Max you should have seen her," Terry was pacing and rubbing the back of his neck. "I just can't let it go. She was so desperate. Plus, she's been so good for the last five years. You'd think Melanie was a girl scout."  
  
"Yeah, a girl scout who's also a convicted felon," Max retorted. She could feel her blood rising as the Batcave suddenly felt warm. "The thing is, even though she's 'reformed' now, she has a long history of lawlessness. She comes from a crime family." Max turned from the huge monitor and faced him squarely. Her voice softened. "Sometimes, not matter how you try, you just can't shake your past. I really don't want you to get burned, Ter."  
  
Terry looked up at the ceiling and recited to Max the argument he made to himself hours earlier. "All the stuff you're condemning her for was only, like, 5% her fault. Melanie didn't choose to be born into the Royal Flush Gang - the world chose her. And that's precisely why she deserves this chance. And before you bring it up, that last job she pulled - to save her family - that doesn't even count." He straightened his shirt and picked up his attaché. "OK, off to my day job. I'll be back around six. Is that enough time for you to get me what I need?" Max spun back to the computer with a loud sigh.  
  
"Yes dear. But will you at least think about what I said?" Keyboard clicks echoed through the Batcave. Max was no longer abusing the Return key. In fact, she was smiling at how much they sounded like an old married couple.  
  
"Yeah," he called back over his shoulder, halfway in the car. "But I already set it up this morning." Quickly he slammed the door and started the engine.  
  
"Damnit Terry!" She shouted at the departing car. McGinnis grinned in the rearview as Max, flipping him the bird with both hands, disappeared from view.  
  
++++++++++  
  
The employee phone at Quinzel's Diner was in the kitchen, which had an average temperature of about 110 degrees. Melanie hurried to it, setting down a tray of leftover pancakes before picking up the warm, shiny receiver. "Hello?"  
  
It wasn't Jack. In fact she didn't recognize the voice at all. This can't be good, she thought. "Yes, this is Sarah Givens from Wayne Enterprises. Am I speaking to Melanie Walker?"  
  
Who? "Yeah, that's me. Um, I can't really talk right now, and my break isn't for another hour," although it was nice to stop walking for a moment, she thought.  
  
"No problem, I'll make it fast then," the voice remained friendly. "I'm calling because the Purchasing department needs a new administrative assistant, and Terry McGinnis recommended you. We like to take employee referrals. Anyway, it's an entry-level position with opportunity to.."  
  
Oh. My. God. Melanie had to put a hand over her mouth to contain her broadening smile. The voice continued, "So Melanie, are you interested?"  
  
+++++++++++++++  
  
Terry and Sarah only knew each other professionally, but it was enough. Bruce Wayne had asked Sarah to "watch over" Terry when he started taking on responsibilities at WE over three years ago. She accepted the request warily. Most young, gifted and well-connected assistants she encountered seemed to enjoy snubbing single-mom wage slaves like herself, and she was more than sick of it. However, this was the first favor Mr. Wayne ever asked of her, and anyway, who would refuse him? So, whenever Terry slipped up, she managed to cover for him until he could set it right. Sarah quietly coached him on who to avoid, who to compliment, and who would get the job done around WE. She even passed useful gossip when needed. But unlike most backstabbing exec-types, Terry seemed grateful, humble and genuine. This won Sarah over.  
  
She always suspected it was Terry who noticed the bruises on her wrists that morning, and contacted Dana Tan at Safe Harbor Women's Shelter for her. When all her closer friends felt too uncomfortable to acknowledge the abuse, this mere coworker took the step needed to help her finally leave her boyfriend. This small gesture of compassion left Sarah grateful beyond words. In that moment, Terry became her angel. So when he asked Sarah for this "huge favor," she simply nodded and commented, "in different circumstances, that could be any of us. Will she need work clothes?"  
  
++++++++++++++++  
  
Batman circled over Cuvier's old laboratory, scanning for heat readings. For a condemned building, it had a remarkable amount of activity. "Hey Mac, are you seeing this? Looks like elves before Christmas." He landed on a darkened ledge outside a third floor window, and activated the suit's cloaking device.  
  
"You're right, very busy." Max's voice was low in his cowl. "Listen for New World Industries. That's where the wire transfer came from." He put his fingers to the window, listening to the conversation on the other side of the glass. Before he got anything, Batman was knocked down. The blow deafened his left ear. Disoriented, he didn't see the sharp kick to his kidneys coming. Terry instinctively rolled out of the way, jumping to his feet as fast as his body would respond. Head still pounding, he looked around wildly for his attacker. "On your left - block him!" shouted Mac. She was still watching the Batsuit's visual feed. He quickly threw up a forearm block as a blow crashed down on it, numbing his fingertips. As much as I hate retreats, thought Terry, it sure beats the hell out of this ass- whupping. He dove off the ledge, boot jets flashing. But before he could get very far, he was yanked back by the ankle like a rag doll. Terry thrashed wildly to escape, and then heard a familiar roar. Max sent the Batmobile, he thought with some relief. But as the vehicle neared and the cockpit opened, he was stunned to see a dark figure rise out. Wide-eyed, he could only watch as the shadow figure clubbed his attacker on the back of the head, stunning him just long enough to grab Terry and pull him into the safety of the Batmobile.  
  
The canopy barely closed. "Who the hell are you?!" Terry shouted. He was still breathing hard, and his body ached. The figure pulled the mask away, revealing Max's face in the light of the Batmobile's dashboard. She put up a hand.  
  
"You needed the help, OK? Before you say anything, please. The pressure readings from the suit were off the charts, and I thought, if I don't come in and bail you out, you'd be in some serious trouble." Her hands were shaking from the adrenaline rush, and also in anticipation of Terry's vehement disapproval.  
  
"Max, you crossed a line tonight. I don't want you out there! We've been through this. I mean, what don't you understand? You don't have a suit like this, you could have gotten killed, and besides, you know I need you at the console - not out here!" The words could barely get out of Terry's mouth fast enough. His mind was racing with angry thoughts.  
  
"Hey look, a little GRATITUDE might be nice, Ter! Don't forget I just saved your ass out there," she glanced back at him, eyes blazing, "and who knows what would have happened with you out there alone."  
  
Terry definitely didn't want to get Max mad. After all, she was probably right. Besides, if the old guy's not at the console, then Max would be the only one he'd trust to the job. "Whoa, sorry, Max. You're right, you did save my ass, and I didn't even thank you. Look, I'm yelling not so much because I'm mad, but because I don't want something to happen to you. I'd feel responsible, no matter if it's your decision and all that." Terry hoped this would appease her. This would be his second retreat tonight. Max just sighed. She was still mad, and his retreat didn't do shit.  
  
"You know, I'm getting a little sick of playing little Miss Nice, asking to play Batgirl. If my job is to help you, then I just see this as part of my job. OK? Most of the time, you need me at the console. But tonight, you needed me here. It's not like the original Batman didn't have helpers," she said, and added with a half-smile, "and I'd be so much cooler to have around than some circus kid." Terry smiled back, relieved that she could joke now. He reached out a hand and squeezed her shoulder.  
  
"OK, OK. Point taken. Thanks for doing what you needed to do. I guess your job is a little thankless, huh?" He leaned back as much as the cramped cockpit would allow. "But this is not over. We have a lot to talk about, before the next time you come popping out of the Batmobile." Terry sighed and pushed the cowl back from his face. "So who was that guy that attacked me? You have any ideas?" Max just looked straight ahead as she drove the Batmobile home. She was thrilled to finally be behind the wheel of this vehicle.  
  
"No guesses yet. I think the three of us have to sit down and analyze the Batsuit data first for some clues. Whatever's going on," she glanced back at him, "they don't want you poking around."  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
(author)  
  
OK, this was a little hard to write after the first chap. It felt different - less self-contained? Less poetic? Something, but it bothers me a little. I'll probably revise it a little down the road. Again, any criticism is welcome. 


	3. Management Trainee

Terry sat on the table behind Max and Bruce. Bruises swelled and darkened his arms, chest, back and legs. Silently, he watched as images from his vid link flashed on the large monitor.  
  
".you can see that from the impact signatures. Maybe they're using synaptic enhancers, like the Batsuit's?" Max watched Bruce's face as he sat back and thought.  
  
"You're probably right. In fact, I hope you are. And now," he half-smirked, "you get to check the other data for any inconsistencies." Terry saw Max's face brighten momentarily from the old man's approval. Bruce watched her for a moment as she let the data scroll down the monitor, and sink into her brain.  
  
Terry was relieved that they finally got along. It took some time for them to get used to one another's forceful personalities. However, the turning point came when Max realized just what a brilliant mind Bruce Wayne possessed. For someone of Max's intelligence, most academic challenges were short-lived, even at MIT. But Bruce not only kept up with her, but he'd even push her further. Max thrived with the stimulation, and Bruce didn't seem to mind challenging her. Terry sometimes wondered if this mental attraction would ever become something more, but he'd quickly banish the thought from consciousness - the mental image creeped him out. Terry looked up as he heard the older man approach. Bruce leaned on the table next to Terry.  
  
"That buy really worked you. Will you need anything for that?" he gestured at the large, swollen lump on his ribcage.  
  
"It's just bruises - nothing broken. The real question of the day is, who's idea was it to send Max out?" To this, Bruce returned Terry's gaze evenly.  
  
"She suggested it, and I approved it." He paused, and added neutrally," do you see a problem?"  
  
"Well, not if you don't count endangering an inexperienced fighter," he retorted, and started again. "I know I got roughed up out there, but what if he got Max, too? She'd have no chance," Terry's eyes weren't angry, but sincere with concern for his friend. He knew she wanted to be Batgirl ever since she got a taste for it; however, that was something Terry never wanted to face. Bruce shifted his weight, and turned his eyes toward Max. She was still wearing the black Kevlar bodysuit, the balaclava pushed back on her shoulders.  
  
"I'm with you on that," he said quietly. "I think she has something to prove to herself, and that's the wrong reason to be in - this business," he half-smiled. "But you brought her in, and now we have to deal with that. Besides your fear of her getting hurt or killed, she will need years of physical training before even being ready to patrol." He paused, still watching Max work the console. "If anything, she belongs here, in the Batcave. With her gifts and some more training, she'd be an amazing Oracle. Now, the real question of the day is," Bruce looked directly into his protégé's blue eyes, "how will she accept that truth?" Terry let out a long sigh. He didn't want to lose Max, but he knew Bruce was right. It figures that Bruce would leave this on my shoulders, he thought.  
  
"Who knew being Batman would give me managerial skills?" The older man couldn't resist a smile.  
  
"Now you know. And - I'm just the consultant," he returned, walking back to the console.  
  
++++++++++++  
  
It started as fatigue - he never felt sleepy in the afternoons before. Then he noticed more symptoms, like the swelling in his wrists and ankles. Bruce Wayne's kidneys were failing.  
  
Because of his weakened heart, many, less invasive treatments were ruled out. Bruce needed dialysis, at first every third week, and then more often. He was now going in weekly for the four-hour procedure.  
  
Terry smiled at the nurses as he passed their station, on his way to Wayne's room, Room 6A. A pretty brunette named Staci was finishing up with him. She left the room, smiling broadly, as Terry entered. Terry waited until Staci was out of earshot. "Did I interrupt something?" he couldn't resist jabbing the old guy now and then.  
  
"Hardly," he scoffed. "I'm probably older than her grandparents." Bruce sat up slowly, and rubbed his arm. "Getting old is a bitch, McGinnis. I don't recommend it." Terry smiled as he helped his mentor up.  
  
"Oh but the wonders of medicine. Just hook up an IV of Viagra, and you'll be fine. I think Nurse Staci would gladly hump your leg right now with the right encouragement." Bruce shot Terry a look that silenced him instantly. He did notice, though, that Bruce was smiling.  
  
They headed back to the manor in silence. After several minutes, Bruce spoke.  
  
"Terry, I need to know. What are your plans for Batman after I'm gone?" Bruce kept his gaze straight ahead, face placid.  
  
"Man, you really know how to kill a good mood," Terry joked. He absolutely didn't want to talk about death today. Not Bruce's.  
  
"I'm serious, McGinnis," he snapped back, undeterred. "We need to discuss this, now." He started again. "What are your plans? And tell me the truth." Terry sighed heavily and searched for the right words.  
  
"It's part of my life. I love being Batman, but sometimes I hate how it complicates things - it's so demanding, you know?" The older man listened patiently. "Being able to help so many people is great. There's nothing like it. But there's more. I mean, it began as a sort of redemption for past sins. But now, after so long, it's like a habit. Going out every night, seeing the dirtier part of life. it's hard, but I still like it. Maybe I've been doing it so long that I don't know what else I'd do." Bruce smiled slightly, remembering the punk kid who stole the Batsuit only six years earlier. How far they've both come since those early days.  
  
"And Dana?" the older man asked neutrally. "Does she like it?"  
  
"Well I can't say that she liked it," Terry answered with a half-smile, "I think she wished I'd have a desk job, but that's really not my style anyway. If I weren't doing this, maybe I'd be a cop, or a paramedic, and she'd still be scared every night I go to work." But it couldn't be that simple, Bruce thought. It never was when women were involved.  
  
"Dana and I, we're saving up to get married next year." Here it comes, Bruce thought. "I know she wants to have kids, and that might complicate things. But I don't see why I can't still be Batman. I mean cops, soldiers and firefighters all have kids, too." They wound up the two-lane pass, and the familiar roofline of Wayne Manor appeared at the horizon. "I just can't figure out what I'd way at Career Day." Bruce had to laugh.  
  
"Did you know that, because of work-related stress, police families have the highest incidence of substance abuse and divorce, compared to all other professions?" Bruce asked quietly. "Dana has good reason not to like it. Listen McGinnis," Bruce faced his successor squarely, "your responsibility is to your family, not to me. Batman was my private crusade; one that you are not obligated to continue. In fact," the old man paused for emphasis, "it would be selfish of you to continue if it harmed your family life." Terry could only nod. As nerve-wracking as these past moments were, Terry was somewhat relieved by the original Batman's words. He stopped the car, and helped his mentor get out. "Tonight's plan is recon only. I don't want you getting in too close until Max can give you the edge." Terry just nodded wordlessly. Good, he thought. He was still limping slightly.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
The Batman glided high above Cuvier's lab, like a vulture over a dying snake. The cloaking device was on. He took his time, both to check for sentries, and to acclimate he to the suit's new feel. Max and Bruce worked feverishly earlier that day to add a gel-like coat over the Batsuit. They guessed that whomever attacked Terry the night before was using infrared vision. This get was to lessen any heat readings, and lower the external heat of the suit to mirror the ambient temperature. Terry hoped it would work, still achy.  
  
Batman circled lower and lower. He steeled himself when he counted one, two, three sentries like the one from last night. He'd have to work quickly. He had ten recording devices, and three video transmitters to plant. He could feel the sentries gaze pass over him, and although they didn't seem to notice him, it didn't put him at ease. He practically flew around the perimeter of the building, barely pausing to plant the transmitters. Within a minute, he was done and on his way back. He wanted to talk to Dana.  
  
"Hello?" he could hear her washing dishes in the background.  
  
"Hey beautiful," he responded. "You too tired for a visit tonight?"  
  
"No, come over!" she paused. "Um, are you flying over, or what?"  
  
"What. I can't let Jokerz know where to find Batman, right? Kind of a security breach." He could see her apartment building just below as he continued on to Wayne Manor.  
  
"Ohh. Well, I guess you're right. what about the cloaking thing?" Terry was curious.  
  
"Are you really impatient tonight, or do you have a thing for the Batsuit, Dane?" he joked. She laughed nervously. Yep, it was the Batsuit. "Ohhh, are you feeling bad tonight, is that it?" More nervous laughter.  
  
"No!" she managed. Dana paused again. Although she lived alone, she lowered her voice as if to tell a secret. "Um, if you're not going to drive over, then, um, can you at least do the voice for me?" Terry nearly fell out of the sky. Don't laugh, he commanded himself. There would be no action tonight if he laughed at Dana.  
  
He cleared his throat. "You want it right now?" he said in his best gruff voice. All he heard on the other end was Dana's breath, drawn in between her teeth, and then a moan. 


	4. Africa

Terry stretched luxuriously. The sun was just climbing over the rooftops; the sheer curtains in Dana's apartment filtered the morning light with a warm glow. Terry propped himself up on one elbow and watched Dana sleep for a moment. He still marveled at the engagement ring on her finger, even though she's worn it for two weeks now, and he had bought it nearly three months before. He could hardly believe that ten years passed since the day they met. Those years were marked with so much turmoil: Juvenile Hall, his father's death, a huge secret, and finally its revelation. Yet somehow they kept returning to one another. Whether because of fate or familiarity, he supposed, they were meant for each other.  
  
Terry got up silently, walked to the bathroom and started the shower. He loved how clean Dana's apartment always felt, and how it smelled so fresh. His apartment, by contrast, managed to always produce an odor of wet laundry and sunflower seeds. Terry inhaled the steam, eyes closed, before reaching for the shampoo. "Room for me?" Dana's voice called from the other side of the curtain. Not waiting for an answer, she drew the curtain aside and stepped in. Her body molded to his as she held him tight around the waist. He returned the embrace and lowered his head to kiss he.  
  
"I didn't want to wake you," he said, only slightly loosening his hold.  
  
"No, I need to get up," she responded. "I've got some errands before work." Dana reached for the soap. "What about you, why are you up so early?" she said lightly, eyeing his yellowing bruises,  
  
"Gotta get to the office this morning. Don't want to give people more reasons to gossip about me," he joked, rinsing off the lather. Dana edged in for some more water.  
  
"Oh, is it getting thick again? Anything juicy?"  
  
"I think it's just the same stuff," he answered, leaning against the shower wall as Dana finished up. "But with all the layoff rumors, people are starting up again with the whole 'Bruce's pet boy' bullshit."  
  
"Oh, well I wouldn't worry. Now if they started saying you were gay," she jabbed, to which Terry had to retaliate.  
  
He pressed his body hard against Dana's, her back to the shower wall. She drew in a sharp breath. Terry's lips brushed her ear. "Would a gay guy spend so much time where I did last night?" He kissed her deeply, as if he were taking what belonged to him. Dana sighed into his mouth, thrusting her fingers into his thick hair.  
  
++++++++++++  
  
Several blocks away, Melanie and Jack were moving out of the Roseland Motel. Their possessions fit nearly into five moving boxes. The new apartment wasn't far - still in the unrestored section of Old Gotham - but it felt like the Ritz Carlton compared to their old digs. The one-bedroom apartment actually had a kitchenette and small refrigerator - no more eating fast food morning, noon, and night. It was also furnished with a small dining table, sofa, and two twin beds. Now they both had a place so sleep. Their new home was a little worn and very dingy, but Melanie didn't care.  
  
Sarah had arranged a "relocation" advance on Melanie's behalf. After paying the security deposit and rent, she had enough for some basic house wares, a few work outfits, and most importantly, a month's supply of antibiotics for Jack. Arty Quinzel, their old boss, also gave her a hundred creds on her last day at the diner. The wiry, narrow-faced man gave her a long hug "Stay strong, he said, "and build a good life for yourself." He patted her cheek fondly, and sent her off. Melanie never understood why, of all the people who turned her down, Arty was so willing to give her and Jack a chance. But there was little that anyone understood about this kind, and very private, man.  
  
With so few belongings, Jack and Melanie were completely moved in by afternoon. Melanie plopped down on the couch next to Jack.  
  
"This feels good," she sighs. Jack surveyed the room, nodding.  
  
"Yeah, and it's all because of you, sis," he smiled. "I'm so proud of you." Melanie grinned.  
  
"I know, I can't believe how lucky we got. I just wish - you know - that we could tell them we're doing OK," she said softly.  
  
"Fuck 'em," Jack replied brusquely. "They didn't care about us, beyond out ability to help with the 'family business'. I though a lot about it after you left, Mel," he continued, "and I realized their behavior was completely selfish. Sure, we had more wealth than we knew what to do with, but we were robbed of any normal family life. So I say, we're in the Web, they can find us if they want." Melanie sighed resignedly. She knew he was right.  
  
"I need to find Terry and thank him - or Batman, I don't know - for all this help," Melanie changed to a happier subject, not wanting to feel sad today. "I couldn't believe he'd help me, so quickly even. Do you think maybe they're really good friends, and Terry did it as a favor to Batman?"  
  
"Or maybe Terry did it because he like you?" Jack countered. "I don't know who can be Batman's friend, he doesn't exactly hang out in bars." Melanie put up her hand and shook her head.  
  
"No, I can't even think about Terry liking me, Jack," she said," it'll make me crazy. But it's making me se Batman in a different light - like he's some kind of guardian angel," she said with a funny smile, not sure how Jack would respond. He shrugged. "It sounds crazy, but I think I need to thank him, or repay him, or something."  
  
"You mean Batman? How would you even do that?" Jack laughed. "Buy him fuel cells for his car? But seriously Mel, life is just starting to turn around for you. For us. Don't do anything to jeopardize it." He searched her eyes for agreement. Reluctantly, she gave it to him, nodding and dropping the subject.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Within the Cuvier building, past the sleeping, homeless forms curled up in the lobby, two men walked through a crude laboratory. Thick plastic curtains partitioned the various stations, all illuminated with harsh fluorescent lights. The taller man led, and it was clear he was the host, and bringing a guest on a facilities tour. His guest was a man called Martin, though he was careful not to reveal his name. Martin was in his mid- thirties, quiet, with sandy blonde hair. The taller man had striking features - feline eyes, pointed teeth. This was Cuvier. He spoke with ease and poise. If it weren't for the makeshift surroundings, he'd appear to be an executive making a marketing pitch to a prospective client.  
  
"If you watch the news, you'll know that infertility is no longer suspicious. Men and women wait to start families, almost into their forties, which results in nonviable ova and defective sperm." They strolled leisurely past some scientists. "Artificial estrogens in our environment also serve to reduce sperm count. The effects are so prevalent; the percentage of couples conceiving without laboratory assistance is only about 30%. The key to our operations is to ensure the nonviability of embryos." He paused, letting his guest absorb that point before continuing.  
  
"As populations decrease, critical mass is lost, and extinction becomes eminent. Like in the wild." Cuvier stopped and picked up a vial. "This is enough serum to affect fifty women. We are targeting the females since males produce new sperm every 36 hours, while a woman is born with all her ova. We believe the mutagen will be more effective on ova. If I am correct, you have targeted the Cohanin genes, found mostly in Jewish bloodlines?" his guest nodded. "Then since we are in agreement, I can tell you our target launch date is in two weeks."  
  
"Wonderful. That's good news. And you can ship it direct to Africa?" Cuvier assented.  
  
"You wanted the mutagen delivered inside polio vaccine serum. That will be no problem for my associates. But I am curious; there are more available test subjects in Israel. Why are you targeting Africa first?"  
  
"Because Africa's a piece of shit," Martin answered quietly.  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
DISCLAIMER The author doesn't truly think Africa's a piece of shit. As it is quite possibly the birthplace of human civilization, and even if it isn't, that's just not true. There will be more explanation later.  
  
While nearly all these characters and places belong to someone else (DC Comics or WB), the following are my creations: Arty Quinzel, Sarah Givens, and Martin. Since these people are ideas, and ideas should be freely shared, they can be borrowed if desired. In fact I'd probably be flattered that you'd use them, even if it were to run them over with a truck (. 


	5. Payback

22 YEARS EARLIER  
  
"Marty! You got a package in the mail!" shouted his little sister. Martin was wrestling with his younger brother, Robert, when the mail arrived. He quickly let go of Robert, nearly dropping him, and ran inside.  
  
His parents sent care packages on a regular basis, but because they had traveled to such a remote part of the Sudan, sending and receiving mail became very difficult. This was their first contact for over three weeks. At the kitchen table, Martin laid into the shipping box. After ripping the cardboard flaps apart, he pulled out several wads of tissue, now strewn around his feet. His eyes widened when the box revealed the exotic treasure inside. He held up the large, intricately beaded ring and admired it for several seconds before setting it down carefully. He picked up the small note card that accompanied the treasure:  
Dear Marty -  
  
We think of you every day, and can't wait to come home. Only six more weeks! This is a Masai warrior's necklace. Boys your age wear them after their manhood ceremony. You must be so tall now.  
  
Love Always, Mom and Dad  
"That's beautiful, Marty!" his grandmother exclaimed. His brother and sister had caught up, and were now crowding around the table. "Amazing what those people can do, out there in the jungle and all."  
  
"They're called the Masai, Grandma," he replied neutrally, "and the Sudan is a big grassy plain." He was used to his grandmother's occasional ignorant remark, and it was fairly easy to forgive, as she never meant offense.  
  
Martin's parents, Joanna and Steve Daniels, loved the Peace Corps. They made their first two-year commitment after graduating college, and had gone off to help the world every few years since: India, Nepal, Uruguay, and now Kenya. When they were home, the whole clan lived in Joanna's parents' house. This made for easier transitions when they would leave - the children didn't have to be uprooted. When they were away, Steve and Joanna would send email whenever possible. At other times, they sent postcards and parcels. As a result, the children's rooms were filled with small treasures and photos from distant continents.  
  
Although he missed them desperately, Martin was also extremely proud of his parents. He admired their desire to help others less fortunate; in fact, he hoped to join the Peace Corps himself once he was old enough. Now, they were only four scant weeks from being reunited again.  
  
". Reginald Abbott from CNN News. Again, this is the latest from out correspondent in Nairobi, Kenya. Tribal border conflicts between the Masai and Sabaot have escalated, and casualties are estimated to roughly twenty foreigners - mostly missionaries and relief workers. Those numbers are not yet confirmed, as we are still waiting for all agencies to contact their field offices. We warn that the following footage is not suitable for children, or those with sensi-" Martin's grandmother fumbled with the remote, finally turning the television off, but not before the report caught Robert's ear.  
  
"Hey, Mom and Dad are with the Masai - turn it back on!"  
  
"Yeah," Rosa chimed, "turn it back on, Grandm-"  
  
"NO!" she cut in sharply. Then, forcing a smile," I'm sure Mom and Dad are fine, but it's time to go to the mall - you all need new shoes," she deflected weakly. Although the children complied, the young are never so easily fooled. They knew something dreadful had happened.  
  
Three weeks later, the remains of Steven and Joanna Daniels were laid to rest.  
  
+++++++++++++++++  
  
Terry welcomed the damp chill of the Batcave. Outside, the rest of Gotham was suffering a heat wave. Max and Bruce were already at the console. He walked up behind them and gazed at the monitor for several seconds.  
  
"Who's Martin Daniels?" he asked.  
  
"We're not sure, but he's involved somehow," Max replied. "Hey, you're a little smelly," she joked, as Terry shoved her playfully in response. "We got some info from the wiretaps, but there's more questions now, too." She shifted to allow Terry some space at the console. "Remember New World Industries? Well while you were at your day job, CNN reported that NWI was going to donate 50,000 polio vaccines to Zimbabwe. And coincidentally," she faced Terry directly, "there was lots of talk about vaccines at Cuvier's lab." Max's eyes sparkled. She loved detective work.  
  
She reached across the keyboard and brought up some blurred images. "If you look here, you'll see Cuvier walking with this guy. When we enhanced the image and compare it to the press photo of Martin Daniels, you can see they look like the same guy." She paused, "And guess who is the CEO of NWI? Our man, Mr. Daniels," she answered before Terry could even open his mouth.  
  
"The other thing we found from the taps is that the vaccine will leave Gotham tomorrow night, at Pier 42," Bruce added. "Max and I are working up some Batarangs that should disrupt the sentries' synaptic enhancers, as I'm sure they'll be there. We should be finished by tomorrow afternoon." Terry nodded in response.  
  
"So, what's Daniels' connection to Africa?" he asked, a little surprised they haven't told him already.  
  
"His parents were killed there when he was twelve," Max replied uneasily, pretending Bruce wasn't sitting beside her. "They were in the Peace Corps when some fighting broke out. They weren't the targets, but the result is still the same." She let out a breath, "and that's all I have for a connection."  
  
"As for Cuvier's involvement," Bruce continued, "we'll know more once you stop the shipment and bring the vaccines here." He looked up at his protégé. "Terry, I don't need to remind you to be careful, but there are a lot of unknowns." Terry nodded silently, and then cocked his head.  
  
"Hey, there's a reason superheroes need day jobs," he smiled, "we couldn't get life insurance otherwise."  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Melanie lay in bed, staring out the window. Her job had been going well, and she was starting to make new friends at Wayne Enterprises. Though she was very happy with all their recent good fortune, her mind still raced during these quiet times - how she wanted to complete her GED, how she'd really like to get a loft in the nicer part of Old Gotham, what was her mother doing right now, what was Terry doing these days. Mostly, she thought about how quickly things can turn sour. She knew all too well how a single random incident could suddenly turn the world upside-down. Sometimes it was how you played the hand, and other times, it was the luck of the draw. So was it safe to make these plans and dreams for the future, or should she just steel herself, and wait for the world to come crashing down again? It was enough to make a girl drink, she thought.  
  
Her mind was drifting along these thoughts when something caught her eye. A pair of lights - boot-jets, really - crossed the Gotham skyline, preceded by a shadow with outstretched wings. She watched as the shadow pulled its feet slightly forward, and alighted on the ledge of a building. Then the strangest thing happened: the Batman slipped through an open window, and was met by a young woman, as if she were waiting for him. He wrapped her in a tight embrace before they disappeared from view. Melanie stared a while longer, not sure of what she just witnessed.  
  
"Batman lives at the Brookside Atriums," she breathed, both mystified and intrigued. 


	6. Using the Bigger Brain

Melanie thought it was a gift from God that today was Saturday. She hardly slept the night before, Instead, she kept staring at that window several blocks away, trying to memorize everything about it. When she woke the following morning, she searched for it again.  
  
"What are you looking at?" Jack yawned from his bed.  
  
"You're going to think I'm crazy," she replied after a long silence, "but I think I know where Batman lives." She could heel Jack rolling his eyes.  
  
"Oh God, this again. Mel, I think you're obsessed. Don't you have enough going on, that you don't need to go sleuthing around for a man that doesn't want to be found anyway?" Melanie enjoyed Jack's humor, but she was undeterred - and he knew it. He sighed. "So where do you think he lives? The bell tower at St. Pius Cathedral?" Melanie laughed.  
  
"The Brookside Atriums, actually," she answered, still smiling.  
  
"Ooh, trendy," Jack responded.  
  
The antibiotics had taken effect - the color had returned to his face, and he could now sleep all night without coughing. "About ten blocks from here," he said, "Will you be taking a little walk this morning?"  
  
"I guess I am," Melanie answered simply, "although I have no idea what I'm going to do once I see him - if I see anything at all." Jack shrugged. He had no answer for her, and only sighed.  
  
"Well have fun. And while you're out, pick me up some donuts, OK?"  
  
++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Melanie walked along the sidewalks toward the Atriums. It was early - not yet ten o'clock - but she could already feel the heat rising from the pavement. As she neared the apartments, Melanie noticed the change in her surroundings: freshly painted buildings, newly painted trees, and shiny new cars. People relaxed at the sidewalk cafes, drinking iced cappuccinos and talking on cel phones. This is so much nicer than the liquor stores in my neighborhood, she thought, the poor kids that grow up around all that.  
  
Finally Melanie came to stand in front of the Brookside Atriums. She stared up at the stone building, noting the potted geraniums several tenants had set on their window ledges. Walking to one side of the building, she counted five floors from the top, and then four windows from the left. Her heart started racing. She was so close to him now. After counting the floors from the bottom, she returned to the directory near the front door: F. Smith, A. Baker, E. Chang, R. Borland, D. Tan. She studies the list, one hand covering her mouth. What was that girl's name - Debra, Dina - Dana Tan? She ducked into a corner as she heard footsteps from within the building's lobby.  
  
"They serve a great eggs benedict there," as woman's voice said, as the footsteps came nearer. The couple didn't seem to notice her when they passed. She glanced up when it was safe. She knew these people. Dana's hair was up in a loose bun, and she wore shorts and a camisole. Terry was in jeans and a maroon T-shirt. She could feel her pulse in her throat as she stared at him, remembering how he smelled, how his skin tasted. Melanie forced herself to break off her stare, or face getting discovered.  
  
Batman caught her trying to turn tricks, and Terry gets her a job. Batman tried to stop her family in a burglary, and Terry shows up right afterwards at their meeting place. Batman flew to Dana's apartment, and here was Terry. A girl doesn't need to be a brain surgeon to figure this one out, Melanie thought. But even still, she couldn't believe how intertwined their lives - as Batman and Ten, and as Melanie and Terry - had become.  
  
When Terry and Dana disappeared from view, she quickly went back to the directory. D. Tan, apartment 16B - Melanie burned this into her memory.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Terry crouched on the rooftop overlooking Pier 42. With the visual cloaking device activate, the heat-dispersal gel, and six synaptic disrupting Batarangs, he should have felt more prepared for this confrontation. He had been there for nearly an hour, just watching, and his muscles were getting stiff.  
  
Two men approached the pier, one holding a briefcase. Terry looked up the dock, and saw three sentries at the posts. They were still close enough to get to the two men within several seconds, he thought. Another man appeared from within the warehouse just below him. He'd really love to get rig of the sentries first, but then he would risk the vaccines escaping him. Terry let out a deep breath, and settled his gaze on the man carrying the briefcase. Then, he freefell off the rooftop and engaged his boot-jets just before impact. The Batman was still accelerating when his shoulder made contact with the man's chest. Grabbing the briefcase, he arced backwards gracefully and set the briefcase on the rooftop before returning. The sentries had started firing in his direction, their blasts casting strange shadows along the pier. He flew low and fast, only a few feet off the ground, and directly toward the sentries. Terry released two Batarangs from each hand. One sentry seized up, and then stood frozen. Behind him, the three men started shooting as well. Batman reached for his bolas and threw two of them. The bolas found their targets - however, the third man fired a bullet that pierced Batman's shoulder. Work through the pain, Terry kept repeating in his mind. However, the stiffness in this arm was overtaking his willpower. He looked around, and saw the sentries approaching fast. Unable to fly steadily, he grasped his shoulder with his good arm, and started running. He needed to put some distance between himself and the guns. The sentries were almost upon him, and the man had him in his sights. Terry took a deep breath, tucked down, and rolled himself behind from oil drums. Then he heard a yelp.  
  
When he looked up, he saw a dark figure emptying the gun while standing over its owner. The man was cradling his arm and moaning. The old man needs to give Max a raise, Terry thought incredulously. He had only thought of Max as a street fighter, not as anyone with technique. He reached for his Batarangs and nailed the second sentry, disabling it completely. The third was almost upon Max, and he didn't want to risk hitting her with a stray batarang. He whipped out a bola, and ignored his throbbing shoulder, spinning the bola while he ran toward them. As he ran, he saw her land a roundhouse kick to the sentry's abdomen, and follow with a powerful reverse punch. She kept attacking, not letting the sentry get an opening. Although this flurry kept the sentry on the defense, her blows weren't doing enough damage. Batman dropped the bola, and released his last batarang at close range. "Nice moves," Terry said," I think someone's been working out." The sound of police sirens cut his short. "We'd better go," Batman said as he flew unsteadily up to retrieve the briefcase. She scrambled up the fire escape, a few seconds behind Terry. "So was this your idea again, or was Bruce that worried about me?" Silence. "Max?" he asked.  
  
"Terry it's me," Melanie said softly, as she pushed back her balaclava. "I, um, found out about your secret." Terry smacked himself on the forehead.  
  
"Oh my God! Ugh, this can't be happening." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is getting ridiculous - I mean, why are YOU here? Are there Batgirl auditions posted on the Web and no one told me, or - "  
  
"Stop!" she silenced him. They both listened, and heard an electronic hum from within the briefcase. Melanie inspected the case, and spotted a tiny fuse protruding from one hinge. She motioned for Terry to get behind her. Carefully she lifted a concealed flap at the bottom of the briefcase, revealing several wires and a small square of C-4 explosive. Melanie produced a wire cutter and needle-nose pliers from a small back pocket, and studied the wires. After the longest forty seconds of Terry's life, Melanie slipped her tools between the wires, and cut them steadily, disabling the bomb. They both exhaled deeply.  
  
"I'm glad I could put my skills to good use," she sighed. She smiled sheepishly. "I didn't imagine this would happen - I just wanted to follow you."  
  
Terry peered over the rooftop ledge, and saw several police officers combing the scene below. They had apprehended the six men, and impounded the three suits. God, he really wanted to "talk" to them before the cops came - or even bring one of the suits back to Max - but not getting blown up will have to do.  
  
"Let's get out of here," he whispered to Melanie. "I'll meet you at your new place in a few hours. I need to get this looked at," he pointed at his shoulder. She nodded and silently crossed the rooftop. Without another sound, she dropped off the ledge, and was gone.  
  
"Terry, what did I tell you about flying to Dana's? What did I tell you about thinking with the bigger brain," Max's irritated voice snapped him back to reality. He actually forgot about the comlink, and was only thankful that it was Max, and not Bruce, backing him up that night. 


	7. Max Gets Lucky

IM Conversation +++++++++++++  
  
TMCGIN: Hey  
  
MWALKE: You didn't come over last night.  
  
TMCGIN: Sorry - shoulder was pretty bad. I couldn't get back out.  
  
MWALKE: Oh ( Will you be OK?  
  
TMCGIN: hurts like hell. but I'll live  
  
MWALKE: that's good.  
  
TMCGIN: We need to talk  
  
MWALKE: I know.  
  
TMCGIN: Why were you following me?  
  
Long pause before MWALKE typed her response  
  
MWALKE: I don't know. I need to repay Batman/ you for all you've done for me. It's my turn to do something good. The night before, I saw you going to Dana's. I took that as a sign. But why? - I guess I couldn't believe it was really you under the mask.  
  
TMCGIN: I really wish I hadn't done that.  
  
TMCGIN: BTW thanks for saving my butt - twice.  
  
MWALKE: As I said, I needed to help. I believe in karma.  
  
Another pause  
  
TMCGIN: Um, so do you mean to help in an ongoing way, or just this once?  
  
MWALKE: What are you asking me?  
  
TMCGIN: I need to know your intentions.  
  
TMCGIN: And I don't know if I can trust you enough to let you help me.  
  
MWALKE: WTF Ter, or am I talking to Bats now? I just saved you're a$$ from getting blown up.  
  
TMCGIN: Sorry for being harsh. But there are other people involved, and I won't jeopardize them  
  
MWALKE: UGH - Can't I have a purpose? Do something good for once? Can't I repay society for my past - like you did?  
  
MWALKE: I never lied to you, to Terry or Batman. You're the only person I can say that about. So you ask why you should trust me, well why shouldn't you?  
  
Another long pause  
  
TMCGIN: Sorry about that. I don't mean to hurt you. I just have a lot to think about.  
  
MWALKE: Guess you do. Jack thinks I'm obsessed.  
  
TMCGIN: lol. You're the prettiest stalker I've ever had.  
  
MWALKE: lol. Don't get a restraining order, K?  
  
TMCGIN: We'll see.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
"Terry, how are you going to let her join us, when you didn't even give me a chance?" Max's eyes blazed. "I've been with you almost every step of the way. EVERY STEP OF THE WAY, TERRY. Don't you at least owe that much to me?" Max was storming around the Batcave. She needed something to hit, punch, pulverize. Terry knew she would be upset about Melanie, but still, he felt helpless against her rage. Bruce remained conspicuously focused on repairing the Batsuit. Terry thought it was ridiculous.  
  
"Max, it has nothing to do with owing chances to you. Do you deserve to be Batgirl? Absolutely, yes. But that's not what we're talking about. We're talking about what you would be best at, and also what's best for the team. That means being Oracle. I only trust you and Bruce at the console, I trust you guys with my life every night I go out there. So don't think for a minute that Oracle is a consolation prize." He had rehearsed all this by himself, and reinforced it with conversations with Bruce. He believed in this idea. He only hoped that Max would buy it, too.  
  
"Fine, Terry, I'm the brain. Everyone knows it. So yeah, it makes sense to give me the brainy job. But jeez Ter, at any other job I'd get some say over what I want, too. And as much as I've done so far, you just shut me down. Do you think I might feel like dog crap after the first ten times? She leveled her gaze on Terry, who stopped himself from flinching. He made himself return her gaze.  
  
"Max, in any other profession, death and dismemberment is not a concern," he replied evenly. "Here, it is. That's why I can't just fulfill your request for 'a chance', even though it sounds so simple. Do you understand that? Nothing to do with dog crap, I just don't want to send you to your death because you want to try something out."  
  
"So," she snapped, hands on her hips," you got me all figured out, just what I can and can't do. And Melanie just pops in, and you're all, 'hey, let's get matching suits and save the city'? Is she really more qualified than me, or is it that she gave it up? What is it, who do I need to sleep with just to get a chance around here?" She regretted the words as soon as they passed her lips. Terry was furious.  
  
"That's ENOUGH!" he roared. "You can be mad at me, but I won't hear you talk about her that way. And you would get THAT at any other job, too." She stared at him a moment longer, then turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs. Terry looked helplessly at his mentor. He thought he saw a shadow of a smile pass over the older man's face as he picked up his cane and went upstairs.  
  
Max was standing with her back to the grandfather clock. She heard it slide open. "Save it, McGinnis. I can't take much more of your bullshit today."  
  
"I'm not Terry, Maxine," Bruce replied quietly. "I know why you're upset. You want to prove your bravery. After that confrontation we had with the T's - it shook you up. You didn't like that, and you don't know if you've lost your nerve." He paused long enough to make her feel his point. "This isn't the place for that. If you want to prove your bravery, go on that show where you eat bugs and jump into nets. At least there you won't endanger the lives of others," Bruce ended, a little more harshly than he intended. Max looked as if he had slapped her, her eyes bright with tears. Bruce sighed and looked down for a moment before speaking.  
  
"Let me show you something." He pulled his undershirt out, and proceeded to take his shirt off. Max drew back in uncertainty. Is the old man stripping for me? - She thought with alarm. Under a fine cover of white chest hair, she could see that Bruce Wayne, even at his advanced age, has never really let himself go. He looked fit, and the skin was softly creased. But she also saw he was covered by several hardened, ugly scars. "Many of these were from the Joker. He liked exploding shrapnel. Even though my cape was made of Kevlar, I couldn't block it all the time. These over here are from throwing knives - I was lucky they only grazed me." he turned and showed Max his back. "Sometimes, bad guys want revenge. When Bane broke my back, I needed multiple operations to repair the damage. It took me a year to recover - it's also the reason I use a cane today." The large, thick scar ran nearly the length of his spine. "Max, is this how you want to prove yourself? Because I guarantee, it will happen to you, just as it's happening to Terry." Max reached out tentatively, gingerly touching the thick welt on his shoulder.  
  
"It's a young man's game, Max," Bruce continued. "You think it's hard for Terry now, but he's at the top of his game at age 22. What's going to happen when he's 30? Or 50? Going out every night, still sore from the night before. No one wants to get old, but in this business, you'll feel it sooner than you should. Of course," he looked sincerely into her brown eyes, "it is entirely your decision what will happen next." She remained silent for several seconds.  
  
"It's that obvious, huh?" she asked softly. "You're going to think I'm so pathetic. You know my parents divorced when I was young. And you know they were away because of their careers when I was growing up. And you know that my sister and I don't talk anymore. So I should be used to being alone, right?" Max took a breath, as Bruce kept watching her patiently. "I have no friends at all, except for Terry, Dana, and - well - you. Not only that, but I have this job that I can't even talk about with other people. I live in a cave, for God's sake! You'd think I'd be used to being alone, but it's driving me crazy. How do you bear it?"  
  
Bruce smiled softly. "Well if you want is to meet people, I can certainly help." He put his shirt back on and showed her a pile of invitations on his desk. "I get about a dozen of these each month. Benefit dinners, exhibit openings, hospital dedications. Take your pick - you can be my escort. And if you should meet someone, tell him you work for the CIA. I can make you a badge." She wanted to laugh - did young Bruce Wayne ever use his fake ID skills to buy beer? Ha, doubtful, she thought. She thumbed through the stack.  
  
"Well, I haven't been to the museum in a while," she said quietly. "Thanks, Bruce," she smiled.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
It was like the prom, but so much cooler, Max thought. She splurged on the dark red velvet dress and matching heels - as she viewed herself in the mirror, she was glad she did. In true Bat form, they had a plan worked out, should Max meet someone and need more privacy. Bruce had one of his other cars parked in back of the gallery, so he could get back to the manor himself, if Max got lucky.  
  
Bruce smiled a greeting to her as they met in the foyer. "I'll warn you now, you'll see a different side of me tonight, Max," he said.  
  
"The side that likes people?" she joked. Bruce scowled. "OK, OK. I'm just kidding. I'll see the Billionaire. I'll see why women used to fall over each other, just to get with you." She smiled into his icy blue eyes. "Oh, Terry told me about your past, Don Juan. I'll be watching you."  
  
"Let's get moving," he said gruffly.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
AN: so many stories have a "prom scene", where the main characters get all dolled up and go out on the town. Well, I don't know if Max's dress was a Versace or Nicole Miller, or if her shoes were Prada - but I thought if a prom scene belonged anywhere, it would belong here. As fine as Max is, I'll bet she got some that night, and did bad, bad things to some lucky man. 


	8. Tights and Masks

"Hey, look who's smiling," Terry greeted Max as she descended the stairs to the Batcave. "How was last night? Meet anyone - interesting?" Bruce glanced up at her, and then continued working.  
  
"Kiss my ass, Terry," she replied, slapping her butt for emphasis. "Bruce, thanks for getting me out of here last night. And you know?" she grinned slyly, "I met the sweetest guy. I'm meeting him for dinner tonight, and he isn't due back in Bludhaven until next week."  
  
"Does this guy have a name?" Bruce asked, still looking at the monitor. Terry was visibly jealous - since when did Max prefer talking to the old guy over himself? She must still be mad at me, he thought, and tried to shake it off.  
  
"Max joined them at the console. "Why yes - and I'll run a background check later - his name is Jared Grayson." Bruce laughed out loud. Terry and Max both turned quickly. The man never laughs.  
  
"Of all the people you could have met last night!" Bruce said, still chuckling. "Tell him I said hello to the Boy Wonder." Max scowled distastefully.  
  
"Bruce, is that some sick nickname for - "  
  
"Trust me, it's nothing dirty," Bruce replied, his smile fading slowly. He shifted his attention to Terry. "So what do you want to do about tonight?"  
  
"I want to do a routine patrol with Melanie. See what happens. Then you and Max can work on the vaccine some more, and gather more data on this Daniels guy. Oh, and we'll pass by the lab to check for activity." Bruce nodded silently and looked at them both.  
  
"The official statement from NWI's website is that the polio vaccine shipment was pushed back due to production delays, and will be launched in two weeks' time." He looked back at the monitor. "Max, this will be a very good exercise for you." Terry sensed they were done with him, so he turned uneasily to walk to his car. Bruce looked at Max, and motioned slightly toward Terry. "Don't be so hard on the boy, Maxine. He needs you, and you know it. He just has a lot to learn about leadership." She sighed resignedly. She knew he was right, though she wanted to hold onto her anger a little while longer. She jogged up to Terry and tapped his shoulder.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry I got so mad at you yesterday," Max said quietly. "I know you were just thinking of what's best for the team." Terry looked a hundred pounds lighter as he smiled faintly.  
  
"That's alright, Max," he said, "and I'm sorry I was kinda harsh. I didn't mean to raise my voice, really. So, are you really OK with the arrangement, or are you just saying?" Max looked away and sighed.  
  
"I'm going to have to be, right?" she shrugged. "It's OK, really, I'll still do my best for the team. But give me time to get used to it, and don't expect me to be her best friend," she said honestly. Terry smiled and hugged her tight.  
  
"And that's all I'd ask of you. Thank you," he pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. "Now, I gotta get to work. If I don't see you, be gentle with the new guy, OK?" Max grinned and punched him in the chest.  
  
+++++++++++  
  
It was discovered in the late 20th century that a tribe in Zimbabwe known as the lemba possessed the similar DNA sequence, in identical frequency within the population, as the Cohanin Jewish population. According to lemba folklore, a prophet named Buba led them out of Judea. This prophet does not appear in traditional Jewish history. However, many lemba traditions are distinctly Jewish, particularly their abstinence from pork, their kosher- like food preparation, and ritual of male circumcision. Since this discovery, Jewish leadership in Israel has required the lemba to undergo extensive DNA testing to prove their genetic link. Furthermore, the lemba must submit to a faith conversion ceremony in order to be recognized as truly Jewish. Needless to say, these requirements have become a source of tension between conservative Jewish groups and the lemba.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
In their will, Steven and Joanna Daniels established a trust fund for the purpose of financing humanitarian efforts abroad. The Daniels Foundation underwent some changes when Martin Daniels assumed leadership of the foundation. He formed a subsidiary group called New World Industries, or NWI. NWI's mission is to bring self-sufficiency to third-world communities, by establishing commerce.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
"Maxine," Bruce's voice was weary and urgent. She turned from the monitor, squinting until her eyes could focus. Max had been searching the Web for hours, and her eyes were very tired. "This vaccine - I found its purpose."  
  
"The Cohanin Jew genetic sequence," she ventured. Bruce raised his head slightly in agreement, then continued.  
  
"The sequence is found on the Y-chromosome strand in over 50% of the lemba, and traditional Jewish, populations. If that much of the population is rendered infertile," he paused to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the fatigue. "We need to know if Daniels has similar plans for other ethnic groups, and how far along his research is." Max tapped at the keyboard to pull up a few screens.  
  
"I think he's just getting started," she said. "These wire transfers are from radical conservative Jewish groups, and also - get this - white supremacist groups as well. That's where he's getting his funding. Then, from the wire taps," Max paused to bring up a few audio files, "Cuvier's going to target genetic sequences found in other ethnic groups. They're being patient about their little genocide project - Cuvier's estimate is 30 years before populations start going extinct." Her words rang in both their ears: whole groups of people becoming extinct.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Max met Jared at Benzetti's Ristorante uptown. Her head was still heavy from her day in the cave, and she decided the best cure was a few glasses of Chianti. As they talked, she enjoyed feeling the wine's effect slowly taking hold, relaxing both her body and her thoughts. Somehow, she felt safe with this man, in a way that she could let her guard down and know he wouldn't betray her. They sat close together in a candlelit booth, sharing an insalate caprese. His jacket was draped over her shoulders.  
  
"So I have to ask you," she said around a mouthful of mozzarella and tomatoes, "does the term 'boy wonder' mean anything?" Jared's jaw dropped, and Max wished she never said a word. Her fork fell to the plate as she buried her face in her hands. "Oh God, please forget that I said it - I'm going to kill that old-"  
  
"No, no, that's OK," he managed. "Wh-where did you hear that from?"  
  
Max didn't trust herself to speak, but it was too late to turn back now. "Uh, Bruce Wayne told me he says hi to - um - the boy wonder," she said stiffly. Jared relaxed, and smiled in relief.  
  
"Bruce Wayne - well then that makes sense. You can tell him that I'll pass along the message." Then Jared leaned in closer, his face just inches from her's. "Max, you don't actually work for the CIA, do you?" she stiffened. Any relief that she felt a second ago was now gone. "My grandfather was the original Robin, then turned Nightwing. He and Bruce don't talk much these days, but I'm sure you know they used to work together. I, um, have a night job, too, that I don't tell people about. It's a family business, you could say." He paused for a moment. "So, are you a costumed vigilante, too?"  
  
Max tried not to sound bitter. "No costume. Computer work only." Jared raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Oracle?" Max nodded in response before taking a large sip of wine.  
  
"Max, that is so cool!" he smiled broadly. "You really helped me bust up that child porn ring a few months ago." Max recalled the research. Bruce asked her for it, but never told her what - or whom - it was for. "You probably don't know it, but I bet you've helped out a bunch of us tights- and-mask types since you started. Dang Max, now I really like you." He was finished gushing over her, still grinning at his discovery. Max didn't know if it was the wine, but she finally felt like she truly belonged to something special, something she could share with this gorgeous, wonderful man. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he slipped his arm around her.  
AN: OK, a little light on the action, but we really needed to get Max out of the Batcave. A girl needs a life, right? I promise, more relevant action in the next chapter. and YES, Melanie will be there. 


	9. A Slow Night

Melanie glided silently behind Terry. Her suit was nearly identical to his, except that her Bat symbol and wings were yellow instead of red. It felt familiar, like her Ten costume, except it was more powerful. They spent most of their time soaring overhead, since it was a quiet night. There were only a few attempted muggings and burglaries to interrupt their aerial tour of Gotham City. They patrolled mostly in silence, except for Terry's occasional comment about batsuit features, or flagpoles to avoid. Most of the time, he was watching her.  
  
Melanie was trying to stop shivering. She wasn't cold, in fact the midnight air felt warm. She felt somewhat afraid, maybe nervous - she wasn't sure which. But something felt eerily familiar - after all, this was how she dressed, how she moved, back when she was Ten. Yet this time, she had a completely different purpose. Was she afraid, that with all the familiarity, she might slip back into her old ways? Melanie shook it off. This was a new life now, and I'll take it one step at a time, she thought, whispering her doubts away.  
  
Their patrol finished earlier than she expected. Terry was relieved as the approached the Manor. She did well for her first night, and he could only wish that the next five nights would be just as mild, until she grew more accustomed to being Batgirl.  
  
"We're home," he called as they entered the cave. Max and Bruce were standing at the console. Their grim expressions told Terry there wouldn't be five slow nights for Melanie's benefit. "What?"  
  
"There's a rally tonight. Daniels and maybe his brother will be there," Max said pensively. "You guys need to do some undercover recon." Melanie looked up at Terry. He frowned. If something went wrong, he thought, we'd be defenseless in our civvies. He looked back at Melanie,searching her face.  
  
"Be honest with me," he paused for a second. "What do you think about going in alone, with me backing you up in the Batsuit? I won't be far, and we'll have the comlink open the whole time." Melanie was nervous.  
  
Had she taken on too much by asking to help?  
  
"Slag it, Ter, this is what you need me to do," she replied firmly. "Let me get dressed, and you can tell me more." Terry smiled.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Crowds on skinheads pressed toward the front of the stage. Melanie, like a piece of driftwood in the surf, was being pushed along by the human tide, until she was nearly pressed against the stage. She was dressed much like the others around her - white tank top, black pants tucked into black military boots. A red bandanna tied around her head and several silver earrings served to camouflage the imperceptibly small earbud that linked her to Terry, Max and Bruce. This tiny plastic device brought her a strange measure of comfort as she tried to relax and just listen to the speaker.  
  
"...and what do we get in return? A word of thanks, anything?" the crowd roared in response. "Damn right, we get nothing! The free world gets nothing in return for its goodwill to the less fortunate. They're starving, and we send food. They're sick, and we send medicine. They're killing each other, and we send help. And what difference does it make? Did it make a difference in South Africa, in Somalia, in Iraq?" The crowd roared again, hungry for blood. Before the speaker could continue, a sandy-haired man took the stage and the crowd surged forward.  
  
"Thanks, Robert. My brothers and sisters, this is an important time for us. We have a decision to make - whether to continue pouring our resources into helping people who are unwilling to help themselves, or to rebuild our own society, to serve those of us who give a damn?" The crowd cheered as Melanie got jostled around by some enthusiastic skinheads. One looked down at her, almost apologetically.  
  
"You OK?" she nodded mutely. All this time, she felt like she was watching a movie, and didn't expect one of the characters to speak to her. He continued. "Smith really makes sense, doesn't he?" She looked up at his clear, green eyes and boyish face. Under the menacing cover, he was just a kid. Melanie smiled. She was calm now, receptive and ready.  
  
"Yeah, he makes so much sense," she responded genuinely. "Wasn't Martin Daniels supposed to be here, too?" she asked, innocently confused. The boy's brow furrowed.  
  
"Who? Naw, this is John Smith. Never heard of - Martin?" Melanie just nodded, hoping Max heard his response. She got her answer seconds later.  
  
"Hmm. John Smith an alias, Oracle? It sure looks like him up there," Batman's voice sounded tight. She guessed he was perched somewhere high, with the suit's cloaking system engaged.  
  
"Checking it. Yeah, it looks like Daniels. And I'm also checking against a photo of his brother." Max paused, tapping furiously on he keyboard."It's pretty blurry. Could be either one." She turned to Bruce. "You think he knows we're watching him? You think maybe he's not even there?" Melanie's spine went numb with fear. What the hell did she get herself into? she wondered.  
  
Bruce scowled. Oracle would have considered this before sending out operatives, Max thought, banging her head against her fist. At length, Bruce spoke. "No he's there. He might suspect that we're watching, but I don't think he has any reason to look for Batgirl." Max and Melanie sighed in unison. "The next move is to locate Daniels, assuming that's his brother on stage. But proceed only when ready," he added sternly. Melanie nodded inwardly. "We'll keep working to ID the speaker."  
  
The speaker known as John Smith continued. "For so long, our resources have been misspent. Money, food, medicine - human lives - have been wasted on people and societies that have no interest in their own well-being, let alone the advancement of their people. Well, a new day is coming, brothers and sisters. We will see, in our lifetime, how these people will reap the harvest of their bad seeds. Now that the world leaders weary of their constant drive toward self-destruction. Now that we are ready to give up on people who have given up on themselves long ago." The crowd cheered ravenously. Melanie noticed the green-eyed boy was looking at her. She turned and cocked her head. He looked down sheepishly.  
  
"Um, if you want to meet him, I think I can arrange that," he said, "John Smith, I mean." She smiled, a little touched by his sudden bashfulness. Melanie widened her eyes a little, playing the cute blond girl act.  
  
"Could you really? You know, that would be so schway," she bit her lip for a second, then extended her hand. "My name's Emily." OK, remember, your name is Emily, she thought.  
  
"Tom," he said, taking her hand. "After he's done up there, OK?"  
  
"'OK - but are you sure?" Melanie asked again, hoping Oracle would pick up her hint.  
  
"Proceed with caution. Terry, stay close," came Oracle's response.  
  
"Yeah, of course!" Tom responded warmly. "He likes meeting his supporters."  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Melanie followed Tom behind the stage, passing several armed security guards who nodded them through. She wondered what Tom's connection was to this organization, especially since he appeared so young. Past the stage area were a few portable trailers, like the ones found at construction sites. "C'mon," he waved her on, as he approached he stairs to one trailer's doorway. Melanie paused for a second, noticing that here were now three men coming up behind her. She sensed an ambush. Suddenly, her nervousness turned to cold panic when Terry's voice shouted in her ear, "Run! They're onto us!" Before Melanie could react, and before Batman could reach her, the three men were upon her. Two held her to the ground, and the third pressed his gun against her cheekbone. Terry watched in horror, praying for an opening.  
  
"If I shoot," he snarled, "you won't die immediately. You get to hang around while we - enjoy your charms." Melanie tried to suppress her panic, and stare coldly back into the man's eyes. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I just came for the rally,"she said, looking confused as she eyed the men. They look like splicers, she thought, noting various animal-like features, and especially the size of her interrogator. Melanie hoped none of them had enhanced olfactory senses, or else Terry would be compromised. Better play my cards to protect him, too, she told herself.  
  
"Bullshit," he spat. He squatted down and brought his face close to her's. "No one knows the name Martin Daniels here. Why are you asking about him at this place?"  
  
"Suck my dick," she hissed.  
  
The butt of the man's Glock crashed down on the side of her head. Melanie blacked out for a moment. Batman tensed, a wave of nausea making his stomach shudder. As the man reached down, apparently spotting her earbud, Melanie whipped her head around and bit hard. The man leapt back with a yelp. Before he could recover, Terry was upon the two other men, who fell in a heap after he attacked invisibly. Melanie twisted from the ground, and swept her interrogator's legs. He landed hard. Her open palm met his nose, causing blood to pulse out as he screamed from the damage. The Batman scooped Melanie up and rocketed past the trees, putting his body between her's and the bullets that had started raining toward them from the trailer door.  
  
Melanie's head was throbbing. She could feel her blood forming a sticky stain in her hair and forehead. She leaned heavily against Terry's chest. She vaguely heard him speak. He was shaking.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered unsteadily. She groaned in response. She wanted to say more. Instead, Melanie just clung to him more tightly.  
++++++++++++++ 


	10. Oracle's Rebirth

Melanie woke to the cool darkness of the Batcave. Her head was still throbbing, though most of the blood was cleaned out of her hair. A large gauze bandage covered her left temple. Her eyes refocused, and she saw quiet activity all around her. Max was at the computer, Terry was throwing combination punches at a heavy bag, and Bruce stood next to Max. Melanie tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but her sudden movement made the room spin. She lowered herself back down with a groan. She heard quick, light footsteps approach her.  
  
"Hey," Terry said softly. Melanie kept her eyes closed, but could tell he was kneeling at her bedside. His hand warmed he shoulder. It felt good. "How do you feel?" Melanie groaned again.  
  
"How am I going to explain this at work," she moaned. Terry smiled. "I feel like shit. But I'll live." She opened one eye and turned toward Terry. "So what about those animal-guys we met? And that fine young man?"  
  
Terry shook his head. "Mel, I gotta apologize for all this. I'm so sorry for what happened to you. It should have been me - it's my responsibility -" Melanie put up a hand.  
  
"I stalked you, remember? I'm an adult, I can live by my choices. This was my choice. Although, maybe we can be more careful next time?" she winked.  
  
By now, Bruce had joined them at her bedside. Was he moving slower than usual? thought Terry. "You'll be grounded for a while - at least for this week. You suffered a concussion, Melanie, and while it was fairly mild, you can't go back out until the dizziness and headaches go away." He handed her a glass of water. "Terry can continue patrolling until you're ready again."  
  
Max's fingers deftly opened and maneuvered through various windows and passworded sites. Finally her hands paused. Her eyes widened slightly. "Shit, shit, shit," she whispered. Then more typing. Max shook her head. "Bruce," she finally said, "I think Daniels is going global. Like right now."  
  
The old man tensed. "What do you have, Max? Is it reliable?"  
  
"In the past few weeks - OK, since I met Jared - I've gotten a lot of other contacts. I've been helping them, and in return I've asked them to check things out for me. That, and what I have here," she pointed at the monitor, "shows lots of pharmaceuticals movement not only to Kenya, but also Calcutta, Kathmandu, and Uruguay. All somehow tied to NWI." Everyone was silent as the information sank into their bones with dread. All wondered how they could possibly beat this.  
  
Bruce stood up and started walking toward the console. There had to be a solution, he thought, we just have to look at it the right way. He was so deep in thought he didn't immediately notice his hands tremoring. He glanced down at them, and when he caught sight of the floor it seemed to shift underneath him. As he tried to steady himself, he became vaguely aware of falling, just before he lost consciousness.  
  
"Terry!" Max shrieked. She bounded to his side, and felt for his pulse and signs of breathing. He was alive, but unresponsive. Terry helped her lift him up and into his car.  
  
Like a shot, he headed for Gotham General.  
  
++++++++++++++++++  
  
Terry's mind was a blur. He followed Bruce as far as the hospital staff would let him go. Now he sat in a beige waiting room. He didn't know what acute renal failure meant, but the term "failure" was never good. He stared numbly at the opposite wall, not knowing what to do, and not trusting himself to think. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing his mentor. At the same time, he had to acknowledge that Bruce was solidly in his eighties. Also, he has slowed down considerably in the last year. Maybe the late nights and computer work became too much. Yet the man was driven.  
  
Terry couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible.  
  
++++++++++++++++++  
  
Whenever something bothered Max, she would rather distract herself with a project than deal with the problem head-on. This problem of Bruce's mortality was no different.  
  
"Nightwing. This is Oracle." she spoke in a stern voice.  
  
"Nightwing here. What's up, babe?" Max could hear street sounds in the background.  
  
"Need possible backup tonight here in Gotham. Can I count on you?"  
  
"Um, when you say backup, are you saying work-related, or - "  
  
"Saving the world from badguys, so yeah, work-related, twip," she snapped. Max could hear Jared straighten up.  
  
"OK, OK. Sorry. Yes. I'll be there tonight."  
  
"Good. Oracle out."  
  
Jared shivered. He wondered if he would ever get used to working with his lover. She could be so - professional.  
  
Max opened another communication link. This man would be her best hope for saving Africa. She wondered where in the Sudan he'd actually be.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 


	11. Even Bats Need Friends

A/N: was lucky enough to borrow Red Hood and the Shadow from the generous and talented Jillybean. Please chek her out - she's a great writer. All other characters belong to DC. Again, with the borrowing.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
+The Sudan, Kenya+  
  
He attacked with the swiftness of a leopard. He leapt in the air, levelled his staff at the man's throat, and drove it through. Then he moved on to his next closest target. This one was easy - the woman was distracted briefly by her dying comrade, clutching his throat in vain. The Stalker planted his staff in the ground and whipped himself around it. She looked up at the moment his heel made conact with her jaw. She crumpled to the ground, neck broken.  
  
He spared no one. With deadly precision he broke all of the snakish man's henchmen. Finally he paused and glowered into the yellow eyes. The man put up his open hands.  
  
"Is all this truly necessary?" he asked in a cultured tone. "I'm sure we can arrive at a mutually beneficial arrangment, yes? After all, between two enhanced people -"  
  
"Do not draw similarities between us," Stalker growled. "Through your splicing you've proven you have no respect for nature." Cuvier raised an eyebrow. He kept his voice even.  
  
"You misunderstand," he replied. "It is because of my respect for nature's gifts that I've done all this. But that is aside from the point. If you are willing to help me, I can grant you this land - the Sudan - that you so enjoy. Just let me finish my task. Then Africa will be mine, and I will give you the Sudan. Unless you prefer another region - perhaps the Congo?" Stalker took a step closer. Cuvier stood his ground. His voice darkened. "You only stand to gain, Mbele - unless you choose to be broken once again. I know how you came to be."  
  
"Africa is not your plaything," Stalker said coldly. He took another step closer,  
  
Cuvier roared as he attacked and the two men locked in a fierce battle. Kicks were met with claws, punches with fangs. Neither would back down, neither cared that their blood stained the dusty earth beneath their feet.  
  
******************  
  
Stalker wiped the blood from his lip and limped away from Cuvier's limp form. Droplets of blood fell from his knuckles - the skin of Joseph Mbele's right arm was shredded into loose ribbons. He peered at the briefcase, then scowled darkly, and raised his staff to crush it.  
  
" Wait!" Oracle shouted. "We don't know what kind of contaminants are in the vials. Leave the briefcase intact. I need to get it to my lab." Stalker lowered his staff and stepped back.  
  
"Well what are your transport plans for it? Surely you don't expect me to deliver this," he countered.  
  
"I'm sending a courier," she replied simply. Stalker raised an eyebrow. Who could she send here? While this area has roads, it will certainly take days -  
  
"He should be there by now. Big guy, wearing a red cape - and he's probably flying."  
  
Stalker never thought he'd see such a thing.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++  
  
+Kathmandu, Nepal+  
  
"GL, this is Oracle."  
  
"Oracle -" Green Lantern transmssion was interrupted with howling/ screaming.  
  
"Oracle, it's almost secured," he managed, his young voice was strained.  
  
"Thank you GL. Contact me with confirmation. Stay with the vaccines when you're done. Oracle out."  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++  
  
+Calcutta, India+  
  
"Oracle, Big Blue just came by."  
  
"Thanks, Barda. Are you OK?"  
  
"I've had worse - but not by much."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"No, I need a good challenge. And you gave me everything I needed. Thank you for that."  
  
"Very good then, Barda," Max smiled. "Oracle out."  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++  
  
+Puerto Alessandro, Uruguay+  
  
The two women seemed to fly at their opponents. The fact is, they learned to fight with leaps and high kicks because that was simply the best way to take out targets that were larger and stronger - specifically, policemen, bodyguards, and thugs - all male-dominated careers.  
  
The one called Shadow spun and thrust her heel into a bullish-looking man's snout. When she landed, she advanced quickly and pushed her palm through the already broken nose. The man fell, screaming. She whirled around, and saw a leopard man running towards her. She backed up, attempting to put some distance between them, but her heel was already at the edge of the pier. Her partner, Red Hood, threw her body in front of the man's legs. He fell over her. She winced and waited for the breath to return to her lungs, then jumped to her feet and helped Shadow shove him into the bay.  
  
Two more to go. These had weapons - this was going to be more difficult.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
+Gotham Ciy, USA+  
  
Melanie rested the ice pack on the back of her neck, and took out her phone.  
  
His voice was distracted. "Acquisitions. This is McGinnis."  
  
"Ter it's Mel."  
  
His voice softened. "Melanie - what's happening over there?"  
  
She glanced at the door. It was closed, and the dctors were talking to Bruce in hushed but insistent tones."He's awake now. Still hooked up to a dozen sensors, but they say he's stabilized."  
  
"Well that's good. So what else are they saying?"  
  
"They're still discussing things. But it sounds like he's lost all kidney function, so they want him to get dialysis every other day."  
  
"Oh - he's not going to like that. It drains him. And he barely goes enough now, you see how he is."  
  
"I know, but they told him he can get a home dialysis machine, and that if he lets it go like this again, it would be fatal." She paused and closed her eyes. "I wish I had good news for you, Ter," She could picture him running his hand through his hair.  
  
"Yeah, I know. Thanks for the update though. Uh, why didn't you IM me?"  
  
"Head still hurts when I look at the screen - can't," she said.  
  
"Yeah right. Well I gotta go - but call me if anything else happens."  
  
"OK. Bye. Good luck if I don't see you later."  
  
"Thanks Mel. Bye."  
  
Mel closed her eyes again. She wondered if Dana knew about her, either about her role as Batgirl, or her 3-day romance with Terry from six years ago. She sighed. During her time at Quinzel's, she hardly had time to notice how lonely she was. Sure, Jack was always there for her, but late at night, with only her thoughts as company, she felt so painfully alone....  
  
The doctors exited Mr. Wayne's room. They looked frustrated. Melanie waited several moments before entering. She peeked her head in and saw him reclined in the hospital bed, eyes closed but not sleeping. He inclined his head in her direction as she peered in.  
  
"Did you catch any of that?" he grumbled, eyes still closed. Melanie smiled slightly. She truly liked Bruce Wayne.  
  
"I caught enough to know you're not going to follow the doctor's orders," she said softly as she took the chair beside him.  
  
Bruce sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm getting too old for all this."  
  
"Too old to live?" she asked gently.  
  
"Too old to put out all this effort - it's time for me to go, Melanie. I don't have children to worry about - including all of you, anymore - and I know the businesses can take care of themselves. Although, I never thought it would be like this."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I thought it would have ended earlier, actually," he smiled amusedly, "with an explosion, a shootout, a vat of acid - something like that, Not here, of an old person's disease." He paused for a moment. "But I'm glad it didn't end earlier."  
  
"Terry would be glad, too," she nodded.  
  
"Yes. These last years have been better than the twenty that preceded them. He gave me back my life - even though he really knows how to piss a man off," he smirked wryly. Melanie laughed.  
  
"Yes he does," she agreed. Melanie quieted, thinking of how much Terry would miss Bruce. The old man must have read her expression, as he quickly changed the topic.  
  
"How's the headache?"  
  
"Still there, but the ice is helping - thanks for the tip," she smiled again, also relieved to be off the depressing subject. Bruce shrugged.  
  
"You get knocked around enough, you figure things out."  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
+Puerto Alessandro, Uruguay+  
  
"Aii, that was messy, girlfriend," Hood commented as she prodded the unconscious python woman with her toe. Shadow looked around at the bodies and weapons. She was sweating under her mask and breathing heavily. What she really wanted was to peel off her sweaty costume and go soak in a hot tub for the rest of the day.  
  
"Yeah - disgusting," she agreed. She glanced up at her friend. "You think they'll take these breathing ones to prison, or the zoo?" Hood laughed.  
  
"I'd hope to see them in a circus somewhere, it would serve them right. Where is this courier guy, anyway?" They both scanned the horizon and the sky for a moment before Red Hood opened the comlink. "Hey Oracle, where's your guy?"  
  
"He's on his way. Checking the GPS - give him one more minute."  
  
"Copy that, Oracle - it just feels too wierd standing around here surrounded by freaks and mutagens." Oracle laughed.  
  
"I bet. Just cool off a minute longer. You can handle it."  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Red Hood wondered how to approach the Kryptonian. Although he was much older than anything she'd truly be interested in, the title "Man of Steel" was just too intriguing to leave alone.  
  
"So, you're friends with Batman?"  
  
Superman laughed easily. "As much as anyone could be his friend, yes, I suppose I am one of his oldest friends. Well, that goes more for he first Batman. But the second one saved the JLA, so I owe him, to say tte least." Supes was so personable, Hood thought. She smiled. He took the attache from her and cast a gaze around the pier.  
  
"You girls did a lot of damage! So, what are you going to do about all these splicers?" Shadow's smile faded and she looked up at him a little sheepishly.  
  
"Well, seeing how we've been on THAT side of the law, do you mind making the call to the police for us?" she did her best puppy dog-eyes. She and Hood really despised dealing with the police....  
  
Superman grinned. "Sure - I'm used to being he boy scout, it's no problem at all."  
  
After a few minutes, Superman left. Hood and Shadow watched him fly away. "Ai," Hood started, "your boy's got the hook up, he knows Big Blue." Shadow grinned.  
  
"You don't know the half of it, girlfriend. That guy's got so many secrets." She looked up at the city skyline and sighed. "They really fixed this place up nicely - the earthquake was only 20 years ago, and look at their downtown."  
  
"Yeah," Red Hood nodded, "in fact I saw some really nice shopping centers when we came through. What do you say we get cleaned up and go spend some dinero?"  
  
"Think they have any spas?" Shadow asked, massaging her shoulder with one hand, "and hotels with hot showers and nice fluffy beds?" Hood laughed.  
  
"Yeah girlfriend, let's go. We earned it."  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
+Gotham City, USA+  
  
Nightwing balanced lightly on the fire escape railing, just above Batman. They watched as Martin Daniels exited the warehouse and walked across the street to his car. There was no one with him. After he closed the door, and before he put the key in the ignition, Batman swooped down upon him, landing on the hood. Nightwing remained behind as backup. Martin's eyes widened for a moment. Then he calmly returned the Batman's gaze and rolled down the window.  
  
"Do what you want, my life is of no consequence anymore." He spoke like a man who was already dead - peaceful and bold.  
  
"That's not true, Martin. I think the world community would love to know your charitable plans for them."  
  
"It's done, Batman," his voice raised slightly, in challenge. "You may have forced me to work faster, maybe a little sloppier, but trust me, my project has been completed."  
  
"Hardly," Batman replied darkly. "Have you heard back from any of your operatives?" Martin straightened slightly.  
  
"You're bluffing," his voice remained calm. "You are just one man, and my plan was global - each part executed simultaneously."  
  
Batman smiled. It sent a chill right through to Martin's soul. "Just one man with a lot of friends. Martin," he continued, "you're going to prison."  
  
Martin looked down for a moment, and just before looking back at Batman, he glanced quickly at the rooftop. Nightwing followed his glance.  
  
"Duck!" he yelled as Batman rolled off the car, milliseconds before a sniper bullet pierced the spot on the hood where he once stood. Like a shot, Nightwing activated his boot jets and flew in pursuit of the snipers. He zagged wildly so they couldn't get clear aim, then released a pair of bolas. The two snipers secured, Nightwing ducked down at the rooftop, scannig the area for other threats.  
  
Martin was now standing on the pier, next to his car. He had a gun, but held it down at his side. Terry glanced at it uncertainly. He didn't think Martin would shoot him, but all natural insticts say run, when a gun is involved....  
  
Batman and Nightwing watched in stunned horror as Martin silently brought the gun up, placed the barrel in his mouth, and dispatched a single bullet. There was nothing either of them could have done to save him.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++ 


	12. Another Poor Terry Incident

_Dear Terry, _

_You don't deserve to get this letter. And I feel like a complete ass sending it to you. However, I also know us well enough that I could never say all this to your face, and then still remain faithful to the decision I have made._

_I am not mad at you. In fact, many of the times I yelled and bitched at you, I wasn't mad, just terrified. Anyway, I found out about Batgirl. And I also found out who she is. And I know you guys sort of had a thing back in high school. I'm not mad, but it scares me to death._

_I guess you logged in from my computer a week ago and did some "work" IM's. Terry, no matter how much I love you, I have to say that sometimes you're a real bonehead - you didn't close your communication, just minimized it. So that's how I know._

_I spent the last week trying to convince myself that this is OK and my fears are totally groundless. Maybe if I had some people to talk to, like a support group for superheroes' spouses.... But as it is, I couldn't let it go._

_And here's the thing. You never knew this about my parents, but when I was young, my dad had an affair with a coworker. At the time, he was trying to make partner in grandpa's firm, so Mom didn't think anything of his long hours and weekends at the office. _

_Well, somehow Mom found out. Dad begged her forgiveness and she threatened divorce. And you know what that would do to his chances of making partner - in his wife's father's firm. Well he sold his soul to Mom, and she had free reign over anything - she bought whatever clothes she wanted, jewelry she liked, and vacations to wherever she wanted to go. We thought she'd stop there, but she didn't. She became really evil towards Dad, saying things to him that you'd never say to your worst enemy, let alone your husband. Then she started having affairs of her own, even bringing these guys home. And she believed her actions were totally justified._

_So from that moment on, I decided I'd never get married. I mean, I know how vengeful I get, even though I try so hard to resist. And then I met you, and decided, even though the possibility of opening my heart to extraordinary pain terrified me. And maybe if we had normal everyday lives - you weren't the Batman, she weren't Batgirl, your dad were alive and my dad never cheated - maybe we'd already be married. But the sad fact is, Fate didn't let that happen._

_Terry, I don't want to suck the life out of you the way Mom did to Dad for the last 20 years. It's not that I think you are unfaithful by nature, it's because I am a suspicious and vengeful person. That, with your line of work, is enough to make me a very unhappy wife. And just as I cannot compromise myself on this, I will not ask you to quit being Batman. So, as pathetically wimpy as this is, I guess I have to let you go._

_Terry, I will always love you. Please take care of yourself, and I hope you will still consider me a friend._

_Always,  
Dana_

++++++++++++++++++

"Yeah, that's how she did it," Max finished. 

"Poor guy," Jared sighed and let his body relax heavily against Max's. Then he leaned over her to get a poppyseed muffin from the basket on her nightstand. _Living above a bakery suits him well_, Max smirked. "But still I think it's better that she was honest with herself now than five years and two kids later." He took a large bite of the muffin. Max had to agree, but still, it was sad. Jared got up and crossed his loft to the kitchen. He took out a carton of OJ and took a large gulp. "Does it make you question our relationship-thing?"

Max rolled onto her side seductively, pulling the sheet tight around her form. She wasn't quite as comfortable being naked in front of a wall of windows as Boy Wonder III apparently was. "'Relationship-thingy'? Is that a word?" She ducked the muffin remnant he hurled at her. "I don't scare so easy, Birdie." Jared took a running leap onto the bed.

"Good," he kissed her nose, "because I kinda like being Oracle's guy. And one day I'm gonna give her a key to the loft."

"Someday?" Max laughed. "You too scared to give it to me now?" She loved being so free with him, that she could say anything, tease him and not worry about bruising any feelings - not getting the silent scowl whenever she wisecracked." She screeched when he ripped the sheet away from her. He pinned her firmly, strong arms and legs immobilizing her despite her struggles. 

"Oh I'll give it to you now, little girl," he threatened. "And after that I'll go get the key."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Terry drove around Lower Gotham aimlessly. Twenty minutes ago, he passed through the deserted roads around Arkham Asylum. Twenty minutes before that, he was crossing the bridge from Central City. There was no one to talk to, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to talk in the first place - which left him with his own miserable company. He pondered stopping at a bar, but knew that would be a horrible and cliched idea, so he thought about going to the Cave. No, that would be a worse idea, because you-know-who would be there, and it would be all too easy to fall into things with Melanie at this point. So this left Terry in his car, wandering around some forgotten streets from the No Man's Land days.

"Ter? You alive?" Max's voice interrupted the silence. 

"I thought you were out with the Man," he responded, trying to be jovial. Actually, he was glad she called.

"I am," she said, "but we wanted to see if you wanted to meet us out here at the 'Haven, if you didn't have anything better to do. Jared was going to grill up some steaks."

"This isn't a pity barbecue, is it? I'm only coming if you say it's not," he was starting to feel a little better.

"No pity for you," Max snapped. "I'm sending you the map."

Grinning, Terry spun his car around on the deserted street and headed toward Bludhaven.


	13. Quiet Passage

The Batman knew what he had to do. He was now a living example of the law of diminishing returns. For every week he gains from the dialysis machine, the rest of his body  
grows weaker. Increasing his dialysis treatments was a non-solution - there was   
nothing left to do but go home. 

Of course, the hospital fought him on the decision. After all, even though his time  
in the society pages had long passed, they certainly didn't want to look less than  
heroic in their efforts to sustain Bruce Wayne. But Wayne relented, and the hospital  
finally had to settle with discharging him with a hospice nurse, and morphine, should  
he need it. This was acceptable to Bruce, so they returned home. And for the most  
part, Bruce had reduced his nurse's role to that of receptionist and snack-delivery  
person, as the news spread and associates came to visit.

The Manor received a steady stream of visitors after Bruce returned home from the  
hospital. Terry hung around the manor, logging into work on his laptop. Melanie,  
with less seniority and no clear connection to Bruce within WayneTech, would come  
by after work and had set herself up in one of the guestrooms. Barbara Gordon would  
come over for a few hours every day, if not to visit Bruce, then to "keep the  
kid out of trouble." And that was fine with Terry - playing host to the parade  
of "men in tights and other immortals", as Max put it, was entirely too  
strange for him to deal with alone.

"Where did all these people come from?" Terry whispered to Barbara. "Six  
years I've been here, and up to this point, how many visitors? Not counting you,  
maybe four?"

"Oh, the JLA has a gigantic and speedy grapevine," Barbara replied. "The  
original Nightwing probably leaked it to Supes and Black Canary, then it went on  
to GL, J'onn, Huntress and the Arrows. Then someone told Flash, and the rest is   
history." Barbara paused, and was about to say more when the doorbell rang.  
Terry went to answer it. A man with a broad but pleasant smile stood outside.

"Jason Blood," he offered with a handshake as Terry stood aside. "I'm  
an old, old friend." Terry glanced to Barbara, who nodded imperceptibly and  
smiled at Jason.

"Yes, Bruce has mentioned you before," she said as she rose. "I'll  
walk you up."

With Jason following behind, Barbara ascended the stairs and walked the familiar  
path back to Bruce's bedroom suite. She cracked the door open.

"Jason?" Bruce called. He looked drowsy, but his eyes lit up when he saw  
Jason's face. "Thank you, Barbara." Barbara turned with a smile. It may  
mean go away, but it sounds so much better, she shrugged to herself.

"You're looking well," Bruce started cordially. He saw thought he saw   
pity in Jason's eyes, and really didn't want any more of it. Jason took a seat on  
the wing chair next to the bed.

"Sorry," Jason said apologetically. "I guess I got bit by the green-eyed  
monster just now." Bruce nodded reflectively.

"It must get tiring," he agreed. Even though he thought it, Bruce didn't want to add the cliche 'at   
least you have your health', so he just stopped speaking.

"It does, yes," Jason sighed. "But the worst part is watching your  
dear friends grow old and die - everyone simply following nature's way - but not  
me."

"Or you could start hanging around with Dr. Fate, or maybe Superman,"   
Bruce offered with a wry grin. Jason laughed, holding up both hands.

"You call yourself a friend, but the you say these evil things," he chuckled.  
He paused and regarded his friend in silence for a moment. "So how are you   
doing? And I promise not to give you big pitiful eyes." Bruce grinned.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. "I'm getting more tired each day. I've  
got no appetite. And there are other related - inconveniences - that I'll spare   
you the details of. In a way, I'm ready to go, but in another sense - I don't know."

"It's a strange journey, so I've heard," Jason said good-naturedly.

"I guess we normally think of death in conceptual terms," Bruce said,   
searching for the best words. "And back in the old days death would cross my  
mind when I was in a - difficult - situation, but this, now, it's so - physical."

"One of life's 'interesting stinks,' I've heard it said," Jason leaned  
back in the chair. Bruce raised his eyebrows in amusement. 

"Exactly. I don't like the smells."

++++++++++++++++++++++

"Hey kid," Barbara sighed as she plopped into the overstuffed chair next  
to Terry. He made an encampment on the couch with his laptop, phone, and a large  
bag of cookies.

Terry didn't turn around, but threw a cookie her way, which she deftly caught. "It's  
unnerving," he said, answering her unspoken question. "It sounds stupid,  
but some people, you just can't imagine dying, you know? And then there it is, laid  
out in front of you." Terry closed his laptop and turned to her. "I've  
been doing this night job for six years now, and even though I've gone out plenty  
of times without him in the Cave, backing me up, I just can't think about him never  
- never - being there again." 

Barbara put a hand softly on his shoulder. "I don't have any words for you,  
kid," she spoke gently. "Stupid as it sounds, I can't imagine it, either."

++++++++++++++++++++++

He was dreaming. Many of his dreams start this way: Bruce was standing in the area  
known as Crime Alley. But instead of strung-out crack whores and rotting garbage,  
he looked out and saw young families and landscaped gardens. The streets were clean.  
There wads even a park. So he started walking. People were smiling and friendly,  
but not in a freakish way. Strange, normally the dreams turn nightmarish by now.  
So he kept walking, ready to see Tim in a Joker costume, or his parents' bodies,  
limbs twitching from their brains' last gasps. But it didn't come - yet. 

He somewhat expected to see Harley Quinn, but not Harleen Quinzel, pushing a baby  
stroller, no less. She smiled brightly. "Welcome home, Bruce," was all  
she said. Bruce smiled back, but scowled as she passed. _What is this?_

He rounded a corner and brought Leslie Thompkins to the ground. Instead he caught  
her as she let out a startled laugh. "It's been so long, Bruce!" she greeted,  
holding his face with both her hands. "I'm so happy to see you again."

"Hi, Leslie," he said, slightly quizzically. "It's good to see you,  
too." For a dream this one was remarkably lucid - no skipping to different   
locations, and more notably he was neither in the batsuit, nor invalid - as his dreams often exaggerated his condition. He was simply  
his usual self, wearing normal, daytime clothes.

"There's so many people who'd want to see you," Leslie continued, holding  
both his hands. She was leading him somewhere, not in an urgent or disturbed way,  
but in a gentle, guiding way. So, not having anything better to do in this dream,  
he followed along.

Then as they walked, familiar faces appeared. First was Jim Gordon, who greeted   
him with a hug, and then a slap to the shoulder, saying something about I can't   
believe it was you, you bastard. Then was Alfred. Familiar faces trickled by, until  
suddenly Bruce found himself surrounded by people from long ago. Was he dying? Should  
he wait for them to transform into wraiths and attack him?

Leslie let go of his hands with a slight smile on her face. "Now, you've seen  
almost everyone. But there are still two more." Bruce didn't want to hope.   
And even if it were them, the morning would be a most depressing one, once Bruce  
realized that his parents were still dead and he was still - himself.

Then they were walking toward him, not frozen in a portrait. Thomas and Martha Wayne  
hurried toward him, tears of joy in his mother's eyes. Bruce hugged them tight.   
He squeezed his eyes shut as a warm, bright light enveloped them all....  
  
++++++++++++++++++  
A/N yes Jilly, I am pure evil. I'm sorry, really I am...


	14. We Are Here for You

_In other news today, reclusive billionaire Bruce Wayne died early this morning of  
congestive heart failure at his family home in Gotham City. Heir to the Wayne Corp.  
fortune, he was orphaned after the shooting deaths of his parents, Thomas and Martha  
Wayne. After college, he became the most infamous bachelor of Gotham high society,  
courting debutantes to the point of engagement, and then suddenly appearing at a  
gala event with someone new. After the Wayne-Powers merger, he disappeared from   
the public eye for over twenty years, then to re-emerge and take back his company.  
During that time, he was seen accompanied almost exclusively by his assistant, young  
Terry McGinnis. Bruce Wayne was eighty-five years old. _

"I can't keep pigging out like this with you!" Max was exasperated. She  
sent her black pencil skirt sailing out of the closet. "Nothing fits, and it's  
all your fault with the muffins, and Italian food, and - especially the damn muffins!"  
Jared ducked sheepishly, trying to avoid her murderous glare. She took out her roomiest  
pants, which thankfully slid smoothly over her thighs, and exhaled in relief. The  
rest would be easy: her black mules, plum-colored shirt, and black jacket completed  
her outfit, then she and Jared, finishing off her bagel, left her apartment.

When they arrived, people were still filing in. Jared and Max found Terry, Melanie  
and Barbara in the front pews, the ones reserved for family members. They greeted  
each other with long hugs. Terry's face was pale and his eyes were dark and slightly  
puffy - his was the stricken, pained look of the grieving. Melanie, looking tired,  
stood close to him, and clutched his hand as they took their seats.

Several people came forward to speak on Bruce's behalf. Among them were a priest  
who, in his first years out of seminary, met Bruce at a soup kitchen near the waterfront;  
and Melanie's old boss, Artie Quinzel, who attested for his part in turning his   
mother's fortunes around by helping her leave her abusive relationship and get job  
training.

Next was a handsome, silver-haired man, who walked with eyes straight ahead to the  
podium.

"When I was nine, my parents died. And while the circus was like a family to  
me, it couldn't be my guardian. So I had no one. Yet Bruce, who hardly knew me,   
came forward as my foster parent, and then my adoptive father. You must understand,  
this was a man with no significant ties to anyone else - no children, no wife, serious  
girlfriend - with a lifestyle that didn't accomodate the demands of a growing boy.  
Yet he made the enormous commitment to raise me as his own. 

"It was an unconventional arrangement, sure, but it worked for us. And of course,  
we had our differences, and countless stupid fights along the way. I thought he   
was overbearing, rigid, and demanding. He thought I was foolish and stubborn. And  
as many young men with strong fathers do, I moved away from home, partly to see   
what I could become, away from his shadow. 

"Whether I like it or not, I must admit that, because of Bruce's guidance and values,  
I have become the person who stands before you today. Bruce, I know you're up there  
gloating about being right, yet again," Dick paused as a light wave of laughter  
passed over the audience. Terry squeezed Mel's hand. "But as much as I'd hate  
to admit it, the man was right about a lot of things, and wasn't so much trying   
to turn me into a Mini-Him, but that was how he did fatherly guidance and concern.  
As an old man, I see that now.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have wasted too many years nursing a grudge against  
Bruce Wayne. And now I am sorry for all the time I lost out of anger." Dick  
paused for a moment - he didn't like how his voice had started quavering. "Unfortunately  
there is nothing I can do about it. But if I could tell you anything today, it would  
be to not squander your life - even a minute of it - trying to make your loved ones  
pay for the pain you feel. For in the end, the cost is too great, and while love  
exposes your heart to great pain, the pain of love cannot kill you. So don't be   
afraid. Thank you." As he returned to his seat, Dick nodded at his grandson  
and laid a hand briefly on Terry's shoulder.

Now it was Tery's turn. Melanie gave his hand one last squeeze, and he approached  
the front.

"What if I told you that the Bruce Wayne I knew was a sentimental old man who  
believed everyone deserved a second - or hundredth - chance?" He paused. He  
thought he could do this, but damn, he wanted to cry.

"I was a punk kid when I met Bruce. He knew it, too. And while part of him   
regarded me as a punk kid, the larger part of him offered me a job. And I screwed  
up a thousand times, but he never gave up on me. Sure he told me - in microscopic  
detail - about my screw-ups, but he kept letting me try again, and risk failing.

"Here was a man who never forgot about his parents, who took in orphaned kids  
- even took in a homeless dog - but hid his generous spirit under gruff words and  
that evil LOOK," he paused. Laughter shook the back of the room, then hushed.  
Those must be the Justice Leaguers, he thought to himself with a half-smile.

"Here was a guy who had every reason to be mad at the world - hell, when my  
parents divorced, I wanted the world to pay, but his died in front of his eyes -  
well, he didn't exactly go out for revenge, he went out to make the world a better  
place. To protect others less-fortunate. Except he didn't want anyone to know about  
his good deeds.

"There are things - priveleges, responsibilities - that Bruce left for me.   
Things I think he meant for me long before today, and I confess, I have mixed feelings  
about them. The fact that he would, he would, trust -" Terry turned slightly  
and put a hand over his quivering mouth, hoping no one could see his shoulders shaking.  
Melanie rushed silently to his side and, behind the podium, took his hand. Terry  
glanced at her thankfully, and took a deep breath.

"The fact that he would trust me with his vision is tremendous and a huge honor.  
But at the same time, how can I be worthy of it? How can I fill the spot vacated  
by him?" he felt a lump growing in his throat again. Better make himself laugh.  
_No, can't think of anything funny, fuck it..._

"I'm going to miss him," he declared, tears runing brightly from his clear  
blue eyes. "The jabbing insults, the nasty glares, the unreasonable demands  
- but especially his patience, his friendship - Bruce, the last thing you told me  
was that I was the right one for the job, and that I should trust your judgement  
if I should ever have my doubts. Well, old man, that's going to be every day, because  
you are a hard one to follow, and I can't believe - I can't believe - that you -  
you were - were _proud_ of me," his shoulders shook as he bowed his head into  
his free hand. Melanie wiped away a tear of her own, put an arm around his shoulders,  
and took them back to their seats. Terry could only glance at his friends, but saw  
Barbara dabbing at red eyes, and Max hid her face in her hands. "Sorry for   
that," he mumbled, before Max enveloped him in a tight embrace.

After a few moments, the priest rose to give Communion. Terry let the familiar words  
wash over him.

"...Before he was put to death, a death he freely accepted..."  
_I'm getting too old for this._ Melanie remembered her conversation with Bruce in   
the hospital. He had made up his mind that day.

"Take this, for it is my body..." _Let me show you something_. The image of Bruce's scarred body burned in Max's brain.

  
"...Do this in memory of me."  
_I will_, Terry's mind whispered.

As he returned from receiving Communion, a rush of air fluttered his hair. Terry looked around, but saw nothing. Then he noticed a folded sheet of paper in his lap. He scowled - a habit he surely picked up from his mentor - and saw a hastily penned message:

_We are here for you._

It wasn't signed, but he glanced back at the suspicious-looking row of conspicuously inconspicuous people. They waved. _There are superheroes sitting behind me_, Terry smiled to himself, as he nodded back to them.

"Go in peace, My peace I give you."

_Fin_  
+++++++++++++++++++

A/N I am not suggesting that Batman is the Son of God. No, that would be  
crazy talk, and would also bar me from the Kingdom of God. If anything, I am saying,  
spirituality-wise, that in Christianity, the job God gave us is to be "bread"  
for one another. That is, we must nourish and sustain each other by sacrificing   
parts of ourselves, perhaps by being more generous, more forgiving, more whatever.  
And IMHO, Bruce Wayne, while a very imperfect individual, did just that, to the   
best of his abilities. OK. So don't tell the pope on me, OK? ;-) 


End file.
